


Locking Antlers

by Owlship



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Furiosa, Alpha Max, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Fight Sex, Knotting, Mildly Painful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Kink, Wacky Omegaverse Anatomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6354709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlship/pseuds/Owlship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furiosa had anticipated that one of the girls might enter a spontaneous heat when the stress of fleeing the Citadel turned to victory, the release of tension overwhelming to biology. She hadn't counted on there being a second alpha to worry about, the Fool still an unknown entity despite how quickly he had fallen into step with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locking Antlers

**Author's Note:**

> Have some filth for the weekend!
> 
> Anatomy note: in this 'verse female alphas have a retractable pseudo-penis in place of a clitoris, which may or may not squick you out. Furiosa refers to hers as an "ovi" (short for ovipositor, an in-universe misnomer) rather than a clit or a dick, because it's really not either one and also I dislike using penis terms for her.

Furiosa had anticipated that one of the girls might enter a spontaneous heat when the stress of fleeing the Citadel turned to victory, the release of tension overwhelming to biology. She hadn't counted on there being a second alpha to worry about, the Fool still an unknown entity despite how quickly he had fallen into step with them.

It's Toast who succumbs, scent suddenly spiking rich and sweet and inviting, which is unfortunate as she's the only one of the Wives who already knows how to drive. If the War Boy they'd picked up hadn't been a beta it would have meant either being stranded and vulnerable to attack or risking the Rig being damaged under inexperienced hands, because Furiosa knows she won't be fit to drive for much longer, let alone be able to try and teach.

She has decent control, had to learn to not give into the demands of her body in order to survive, but for a moment she lets the fresh heat-scent wash over her and pictures with perfect clarity abandoning the wheel to get Toast pinned down, writhing and needy underneath her.

The heavy musky smell of another alpha is mostly what helps cut through the urge, makes her instincts prime for a fight rather than a fuck.

“Get her into the hold,” Furiosa grits out, hands gripped tight around the steering wheel.

“No, I'm fine,” Toast says belligerently, swatting at Cheedo's hands. “It's fine, I'll just- I can handle it.”

It's not a question of whether she can spend a heat alone or not- she will be alone, whether she likes it or not, unless one of the others wants to keep her company. Furiosa can feel her own heartrate picking up as arousal starts gathering between her legs just at Toast's scent, can smell the way the Fool is starting to respond as well, knows if Toast tries to stay in the cab it'll end in bloodshed and her being knotted by one or the other of them.

“Get in the hold,” Furiosa repeats, turning in her seat to level a commanding look at her, using what extra sway being an alpha grants her. Toast licks her lips and nods, usually defiant eyes going hazy and far-away.

Turning to face her has put her closer to the Fool, to the overbearing presence of another unmated alpha, and she's not surprised when he growls at her in a low warning. That he hadn't made any attempt to so much as look at the girls earlier means nothing now; a lifetime of necessity has taught her control, there's no way to know if it's the same for him. Furiosa snarls back, teeth bared, but returns to the driver's seat to put more space between them before he lashes out.

“Nux,” she calls, startling him out of helping Capable climb down the opened hatch, “You're driving.”

“You're not going to mate her,” the Dag says immediately, incredulous and defiant as she comes to a plausible-but-inaccurate conclusion, “you said you wouldn't!”

Furiosa shakes her head sharply. No, she won't fuck Toast- but the smell of her is already in her veins, is already calling out her alpha instincts. She can't stay in the Rig and drive, especially not when there's the danger that one of the others might also go into heat as well, a feedback loop of biology that would spell disaster.

She turns to the Fool, his face dark and hungry as he stares at where the hatch has closed behind Toast and Capable but still keeping to his own space for the moment. “Get out,” she tells him, jerking her chin towards the tank behind them, “Up top.”

He snaps his attention to her, bares his teeth in challenge, but after a moment of glaring relaxes the snarl and nods. He disappears out the doorway, the sound of his boots heavy on the roof of the cab.

Nux slides into the empty seat, wide-eyed and curious. He'll have seen the way alpha War Boys react to omegas, of course, but she hasn't come across many others at the Citadel who deliberately take themselves out of the situation rather than trying their luck at mating, no matter the circumstances.

There's no obstacles to avoid steering into at the moment so Furiosa clips the accelerator and switches seats with him, the wave of Nux's muted beta-scent in her nose almost calming until her senses realize that she's now where the Fool was sitting moments ago, his heavy alpha musk sharp against the leather of the seat.

She already knows she can't stay in the cab at all, not unless she wants to risk sending the others into heat, not with Toast's needy scent still hanging fresh in the air. Her plan had been to weather it out in the gunner's nest on back of the tank, but with another alpha up there...

Capable slides back in through the hatch, bringing with her a swell of omega sweat and desperation clinging to the fabric she wears. “She has food and water,” she says, “We can check in but she should be alright.”

That's good, that's what the plan called for- Furiosa can feel her brain being swamped by the enticing smell even second-hand, knows she has to leave if she doesn't want to be overwhelmed entirely.

“Stay in the cab or the hold,” she orders the girls, waiting just long enough to see Cheedo and Capable nod in agreement before clambering out of the open window and onto the roof, hopes they'll actually listen. It didn't seem likely that Nux would try something now, not after watching the way he was so careful around Capable, which means he's safer for them to be around than she is, at the moment.

The rush of hot sandy air does nothing to clear her head, the beating sun only heating her blood further, making her more aware of the tight ache spooling low in her pelvis. There's still half a shelter on the near end of the tank, better than staying completely exposed since she assumes the Fool has taken the more complete buggy for himself.

The presumption of it rankles, knowing that some other alpha is digging down into any part of _her_ rig even temporarily. It's a better option by far than leaving him free to try and mate Toast or one of the others, though, and positioned here she can make sure he doesn't try and slip into the hold.

Upwind like this she can't smell him or anyone else at all, a relief that lets Furiosa settle her back against the metal shell, has her focusing on the throbbing heat between her legs. Even with no direct touches her ovi's started getting hard, halfway to being extended already, not content with staying tucked safely inside herself when between her teeth there's the smell of an omega needing to be filled.

She pushes aside the hanging insignia to palm herself through the leather of her trousers, sweet pressure that makes her cunt drip in anticipation, begins unbuckling her belts to slip her hand inside. Her ovi's sensitive to the drag of skin and Furiosa avoids it for the moment even though she wants nothing more than to fuck up into her fist, instead reaches into where the folds of her cunt are slick and wet. Even her own touch is enough to drag a sigh of relief out of her as she smears wetness up over the nub of her ovi's head, starts drawing it out into the open so she can take care of it properly.

She's not expecting the Fool to lurch up the length of the Rig's tank, nostrils flaring, but she snaps her hand away from herself and scrabbles upright to meet the challenge with a deeply displeased growl.

“You smell,” he says, teeth bared in a threat, and for a moment she wishes they'd kept the damn muzzle on him. Whatever she smells like to him wasn't enough to dampen the arousal she can see tenting his crotch, still as hard and eager from the memory of Toast's scent as she is.

“Deal with it,” Furiosa replies, because like hell was she going to give her upwind position to him willingly, not when it also meant he would be closer to the cab, might decide to go for the girls without her being aware to stop him in time.

The Fool growls, low and rough, and it's really not a surprise when he lunges forward to take a swing at her. It would be all too easy to pitch him off the side to be lost in the sands, she thinks as she weaves low to aim a blow at his midsection in answer, but the rational part of her still finds him more an asset than liability.

They trade punches, grappling on the scorching metal of the tank, drawing up blood and heavy alpha musk as their sweat smears together. A dumb instinctual battle for something neither of them wants when in their right minds, won't have access to regardless of who wins anyway.

It's not an easy fight, even without the complication of staying atop the swaying tank- the Fool is stronger than her, heavier even with her metal arm in place. Furiosa's been fighting against stronger and heavier most of her life, though, and she knows the territory of the War Rig like she knows her own prosthesis. With a roar she leverages her weight to press down on him, twists one of his arms useless between him and the rough grating of the Rig's walkway, has him pinned.

She can feel the hard length of his cock against her ass through their leathers though, straining up against where she's straddling him despite the way they both reek of alpha, and it's enough for Furiosa to think about resolving the tension _that_ way instead before he gets his other arm free, lashes out hard enough to make her rear back, hold loosening.

They range along the length of the tank as they continue scuffling, slam into the rear shelter where the walls mean there's less danger of falling off, even if the enclosed space limits what moves they can make. There's blood in her mouth that might be hers or might be the Fool's, the adrenaline-tinged scent of him heady enough to nearly overcome her usual aversion to alphas. By the way he's responding, hips rolling against her when he gets the leverage, hands caressing and grabbing more than striking, she's pretty sure he's arriving at the same conclusion she has.

It's not so unusual for alphas to fuck one another when they're worked up on heat-scent and can't get to an omega, when the alternative is killing one another. A pair of beaten-dead alphas doesn't do the species much good, after all.

A moment of distraction leads to her getting pinned, held down by the solidity of the Fool's body in a way that should have her calling for blood but instead makes something hot and wanting well up through her. Her head's landed in the tangled bundle of his discarded jacket, hot musky alpha scent in her nostrils almost welcome as she pants from the exertion. One of her legs is still free and she wraps it around his hips in invitation, rubs herself against where his cock strains his trousers, smiles sharply when he grinds down against her without hesitation in response.

Furiosa reaches up against his hold to land a biting kiss against his mouth as the War Rig keeps rolling below them and the Fool groans low in his throat before eagerly returning it, shifting the last of the energy from fight to fuck.

The rolling intensity of the fight was enough to coax her ovi out as they grappled, now so hard she aches when she presses up against the ridge of his cock, sends a sparking wave of heat down her spine.

“Gonna fuck me?” she asks, breathless from exertion and desire, already sure of what the answer will be but wanting to hear it from his lips. She'd like to turn the tables, split his alpha asshole open around her ovi instead, but she's sure that would entail a longer fight and more preparation than either of them has patience for.

“Mhm,” the Fool rumbles in reply, nips his way down her neck, little teasing bites that have her shivering. Getting fucked instead is hardly the worst consolation prize for losing a fight. “Y'ever been knotted?”

“Yeah,” Furiosa replies confidently, as if it had happened more than once, by accident the first time she'd gotten worked up with the other alphas at an omega's heat-scent. It had been less than pleasant, a nearly-burning stretch and the knowledge that she was stuck with the other alpha until his knot went down, but it's not as if she's going to let this man think that she's weak, that she can't handle it.

He lifts his face away from her skin and the look he gives her is dark and feral and hungry, delicious for the edges of danger it holds. Furiosa grinds against him a little more solidly, suddenly feels desperate to get their layers out of the way. It won't be gentle, and by what she can feel through his leathers it'll be a stretch even before the knot, but her blood is pounding and she can almost still smell Toast's heat in the air and she _wants_.

She goes for his belt, the laces of his trousers, while he tugs her already undone leathers down over her hips. She has to kick off her boots, careful to make sure they land somewhere they won't go bouncing off the tank, skins her trousers the rest of the way off. Just being bare from the waist down produces a stupid sort of thrill, knowing there's dangerous wasteland on all sides, knowing also that the both of them are strong enough to defend themselves anyway.

The Fool makes a low noise not quite a growl and wraps one of his arms around her shoulders, bringing her in close while she slides her flesh hand up his shirt to feel the shift of strong muscles under his skin. His other hand moves down to her slick folds, fingers rough against the delicate skin there, and Furiosa hooks her prosthesis up over his head to kiss him again, enamored with the way his plush lips give way to sharp teeth, the slick feeling of his tongue against hers.

He spears his fingers inside her cunt at the same time she swipes her flesh hand over the length of his cock, the size as intimidating as it is enticing, and she's not sure whether the gasp that tears out of her has to do more with one or the other.

The Fool rumbles against her, hips twitching forward into her touch, pulls his hand away from her for a moment to arrange himself and then the broad head of his dick is right there, pressing up against the opening of her cunt. She rolls her hips up to meet it, moans raggedly when his cock starts sinking inside, thick and full and stretching her wide open.

From the fighting and the memory of heat-scent Furiosa is so wet that the only real struggle is accepting the size of him, the girth of his cock unrelenting, her muscles wanting to clamp down and keep him out even as she forces herself to relax and let him in. He pauses for a moment as she adjusts, only half his length inside her, and then pulls back, almost all the way out, pushes back inside to work a little further in exquisite movements that have her canting back to meet them.

She moves her hand down to her cunt, fingers dancing around where the Fool is sinking his cock inside her and eliciting a groan from him, transfers the extra wetness up to her ovi so she can stroke herself without worry, even though she's leaking enough that she thinks it's not really going to be a problem.

The growing swell of his knot presses against her opening, demanding entrance, and it's thick enough already for Furiosa to think twice about whether this was a good idea after all, even as her hips buck without her input, grinding on the delicious firm curve of it.

He doesn't just shove it in to come as quickly as he can, as she expects he will- no, the Fool starts fucking her for real, quick hard movements that are more like a beta's thrusting than an alpha's grinding. Every pump of his hips sends sharp waves of pleasure through her, the blunt head of his cock rubbing her walls and his knot pressing against her cunt lips with every thrust, until she thinks perhaps she'll come from just this, that maybe she'll discover she is one of those alphas who can come without something tight around their knots after all.

One of his hands is occupied bracing his weight off her, the other skimming down the length of her body, caressing her breasts through her shirt and then teasing at her ovi again, tangling with her own fingers as she strokes herself.

“Ready?” he growls against her chest where he'd been laving the sweat from her skin like she was some sweet-tasting omega, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

Furiosa bares her teeth in response, presses her metal hand down hard against his ass to encourage him closer. His knot is swelling notably, more than she's completely sure she can take, but the challenge of it sends sharp thrills down her spine.

Instead of pressing further inside the Fool pulls out completely, unexpected enough to have her hiss at him in frustration. He grabs at her belts for leverage and tries to roll her, awkward in the cramped space of the gunner's nest. And that's something she won't do, won't go to her knees for him like an omega being bred, lashes out as she struggles against him. He growls at her, shakes his head as he wards off her uncoordinated attack, slides his weight off to the side.

What he was trying to do clicks in her mind when he shifts to be belly-up himself, laying himself open for her to take, and Furiosa settles easily once she realizes it, twists herself to crouch over him. His cock is red and swollen and obscene against the skin of his belly, glistening with her slick, and she rubs her ovi along the length of it for the rolling tease of it, some small punishment for the disruption.

He makes a low noise at the contact, encouragement or disapproval she couldn't say, and after another few rolling slides she grabs at the swelling base of his dick to hold it steady enough for her to sink back down onto it.

It feels as if she's being speared open like this, the angle his dick enters her changed as she lets her weight draw her down against the knot, firm and throbbing and hot. She fucks herself on his cock in easy movements while he holds himself quiveringly still for her, thinking that she could give him her hand instead, could pull away entirely and make him use his own. But there are alphas who can handle knots, and she feels it taunting her at every down-stroke and wants the satisfaction of taking it for herself.

Furiosa wills herself to open for it, grinds down in small searching movement while she brings her hand back to her ovi, the pleasure and the bright burning stretch dancing around inside her body at odds with one another. It's a fight, her body stubborn against accepting the intrusion, until suddenly the bulk of the Fool's knot is more in than it isn't. The thickest part of it stretches her opening wide in a moment of breathless anticipation where she might still pull herself away- but before she can do more than think it, her weight bears her down and the rest buries itself in her cunt in a slick filthy rush that has her crying out sharply.

Her cunt spasms around the sudden fullness and it hurts, burns and aches and fuck she _knew_ it was going to be just as awful as the last time she'd fucked a fellow alpha like this, a deep spasm of too-much that makes her feel overstuffed, like she's going to split open around him.

The pain of his knot lodging inside her distracts her from wanting to come entirely, fingers stilling on her ovi because the pleasure of it is overwhelmed by the inescapable solid pressure of him inside her. But the Fool brings one of his hands over to keep working at her, fingers running along the length of her ovi before moving down to squeeze at where her own knot is still trying valiantly to engorge despite how the sparks of discomfort nearly steal away her arousal altogether.

He wraps one broad warm hand around the base of it, starts up some sort of rhythmic squeezing movement that doesn't take long to somehow become pleasurable enough to distract from the still-growing stretch inside her.

“Can you come like this?” he asks, mouth moving up the length of her neck where she's slumped over against him, the scratch of his scruff coarse over her skin, “On my knot?”

Furiosa shakes her head, surprised by the way the pain of it is dulling down with the help of his hand on her ovi but not hopeful about being able to overcome it completely. “Never tried.”

He hums wordlessly, drags his free hand down her spine to cup her ass, encourages her to rock against him in small circling movements, the sort of thing that's meant to get a knot fully expanded, to stimulate an omega's k-spot. If she holds still Furiosa thinks maybe she'll be able to ignore the heavy pressure but her hips don't want to stop twitching once they've started, not even to save herself the discomfort, not when there's slick warm pressure from his hand against her own knot. He keeps working at her ovi, squeezing and releasing her knot in waves, rubbing his thumb at the sensitive spot just above the base until she feels the tension under her skin swelling outwards, restarts the movement of her own fingers to try and stroke herself to orgasm.

The Fool kisses her again, deep and filthy with his free arm laying heavy against her back to keep her close, then ducks down to mouth at where one of her nipples is peaked under her shirt, breath warm and damp even through the fabric. He bites down gently, a blunt sweet pressure that has her gasping, arching into it as he switches to the other.

The tilt of her hips changes the angle of his cock inside her just enough, lodges the firm press of his knot in against a spot she didn't think it could reach. Unexpected pleasure rips through her, overwhelming the aching discomfort of the stretch until the throbbing fullness of his knot is suddenly almost welcome.

Furiosa finds herself moving against him with purpose, desperate for the friction and press of that unanticipated sensation until the pleasure of it whites out her thoughts entirely. She calls out wordless and harsh as she comes, hand spasming around her ovi as it pulses and spills, knot fully engorged so quickly her head spins at the sensation.

The Fool keeps his hand wrapped around her knot, lets her have that warm solid pressure she needs, but his mouth leaves off worrying at her nipples as her cunt clenches down around him, his own hips jackknifing up into her for a few last desperate thrusts. She feels more than hears his groan reverberating between them as he comes, definitely feels his cock pump and twitch as it fills her with a rush of seed. For a singular moment the haze of climax has her imaging biting down on the curve of his neck as if he was an omega, instincts pushing her to claim him to keep even on the wrong side of a knot, but the fancy disappears before it's properly formed.

The pleasure stretches out for a long moment, give-and-take as the steady pressure around her knot keeps her ovi dripping and her cunt spasming, drawing out more pulses from his cock in return.

But she isn't an omega, isn't meant to tie down around a knot and milk it dry, so the waves of clenching give way before long, her cunt's hold against him relaxing back into a dull stretched discomfort.

The Fool rumbles contentedly below her, the hand not tangled with hers around the base of her knot rubbing the back of her head, the restless feral energy of him expended so he looks more like a lazy cat. Furiosa lets herself kiss him again, generous in her satiety, but then pulls away as much as she's able, the knot shifting uncomfortably inside her. He's not as terrible to be knotted to as the alpha from her past, but it still chafes uncomfortably to have another alpha so intimately close, let alone one she's known for little more than a day.

Without the smell of heat-scent in the air, just alpha and the burning dusty air of the wastes, it doesn't take long for them to untie, slick seed escaping out of her cunt as his knot softens, her own spent ovi shrinking from his grasp to retreat back safe inside her body again.

Furiosa pulls herself off him completely, glad to reclaim some space between them now that the urgency is gone, grimaces as she runs her hands through the mess of slick and seed left on her own skin. The Fool is worse off, shirt sticking to his belly where her release spilled against him, but there's rags and water enough to clean off with.

Well, there's water up in the cab of the Rig, anyway. Furiosa stretches her shaky legs out in front of her and contemplates making her way over, but the risk of encountering Toast's heat-scent again so soon has her reaching instead for some of the coarse rags that litter the floor of the gunner's nest, harshly scraping away the worst of the sticky mess before it dries completely. The Fool uses his hands, licks their seed up off his skin like a true wastelander, reluctant to waste anything.

“Should be safe by nightfall,” she says once they're both dressed again. Spontaneous heats like this are quick-burning, a flash in the pan; if none of the other girls succumb it won't have meant more than a day's discomfort for any of them. Perhaps more than a day, she admits to herself as the aches of their fighting start making themselves known now that she's no longer hopped up on adrenaline and endorphins, but she's used to that sort of pain already.

The Fool grunts in agreement, flexes his braced knee out slowly like he's remembering the kick she landed to it earlier. She could travel back up to the front shelter for more space, but with the rush fucked out of her system having him sitting across the way from her really isn't much different than she's used to, too many alphas crammed into too little territory. He's quieter than most, too, a relief after constant barracks chatter.

The vague smell of Toast's heat keeps wavering in and out on the breeze as the War Rig drives on, not really enough to do much more than keep the both of them aware of it over the dusty aroma of the sand dunes. If the scent does spike again Furiosa thinks she'd be willing to fuck the Fool a second time, even though her poor strained cunt aches viciously at even the thought, wonders idly how much of her knot she could fit past those plush lips of his.

 


End file.
